Cut him Out in Little Stars
by robot-keayleuu
Summary: Alternate end to ROTJ-death, references to death


"When he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun."

― William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

* * *

**keayleuu:** in which is the closest keayleuu will ever get to a happy ending. (And still everyone dies. huh.)

* * *

The human mind is slow and when we experience death, it's swift—all of our senses reach a grinding halt. I do not fear death because death is a natural part of life- something needed in order for society to progress. But still it is complicated, and not always is it easy.

Death in the body can be very relaxing. During the first few stages, dimethyltryptamine is released into the brain. This occurs when death no longer becomes a possibility but the inevitable, with zero chances of escape. This chemical calms the body, producing soothing visions to relax the individual into the afterlife. The next stage that occurs is Rigor mortis: the stiffening of the body as the lights of life fade.

People fear death when they have reason to live: I, however, have no attachment to my life. Some say that when death comes, your life is flashed before you: my mind falls back to the point where my death started, and as I relive the moments the sensations strike me over and over, like the dawn of a new day, witnessed through newly opening eyes.

Blue lightening rolls through me, scorching my nerves. Tears burn in my eyes because the heat is overwhelming—my blood is heightened to a boil as it thumps around my body. I'm clutching onto some canisters by the edge of a platform, but I don't know how much longer I can hold on; I'm gripping with all my strength but the pain is excruciating.

I feel him getting closer—the embodiment of death. Although I don't see, I feel each step that he takes; feel his eyes looking down at me, alight with cold pleasure. I know this is the end, and that it's only just beginning—that this pain will continue for some time before I die.

He's talking-terrible words-but the thump of blood in my ears makes it hard for me to catch them. I gasp as my nerves are scorched, blue electricity flickering around my body. Heat creeps into my cheeks and it stings so badly, but I'm glad that it's hot because that means I'm alive—I don't want to slip away. I scrunch up my face and try to withstand the pain but another bolt hits me and I can't take it—

'Father, please!'

Sentences are difficult- this is all I can manage. I want to negotiate, I want it to stop—I can't believe how much it hurts, and I tremble with the pain. I don't want to die this way, but as lightning strikes my body I can't hold back my cries. Screams are torn from my lips as I press my face into the ground. Blood gurgles in my throat- I cannot conjure my last words.

'Now, young Skywalker… You will die.'

These are the last words I remember him speaking. I lie still, expectant- and as the final bolts strike me I scream louder than I have before, clutching my sides as I writhe. Then suddenly, it stops. I hear screaming but it's not mine and when I lift my head I see my Father; saving my life. He takes death in his arms and throws him over the platform that was meant to dispose of me. He collapses over the side of the railing and without thinking, I limp to his side.

My heart flutters as I hear breathing and realize he's alive-we're alive, but not unharmed. It's rugged and uneven but it's breath, nonetheless. I pull him into my arms and lay him against my chest; a prosthetic hand supports his shoulder whilst my flesh one finds his arm, fingers curling around his wrist as we lay still and breathe.

Nerves overcome me and in that moment, I'm overwhelmingly dizzy. Everything happened quickly- I'm too disoriented to function.

'You need to leave. That attack by your Rebel friends, I get… I get the feeling it succeeded. You don't have long-'

'Leave? Oh… that's right! We have to go—we have to get out of here—'

I take hold of Father's shoulder and try to pull him, but he slumps. Catching him, I try again but my effort is futile—he's too heavy for me, falling back onto the floor.

'Help me!' I cry, desperately hauling his body. 'You have to come, too; I can't carry you by myself-'

'You need to go. You need to-'

'I'm not leaving you!' I scream. 'You have to come—I have to save you!'

'Don't waste your time! It's too late, Luke... I'm... already dying. You've no need to concern yourself with me... any more...'

'Dying?' I feel hot, confused, because the word doesn't register. I stare into Father's mask and wonder about the human underneath—were these his last breaths? 'No…' I mumble.

'No, that can't be right! You can't be dying, it was just a few bolts of lightning…'

'I'm old-weak-there isn't much time. Go, my son—go! You did well tonight…. I'm proud of you… so proud...'

My head is hazy and my throat feels tight. My immediate response is I don't want to go—I want to stay here with my Father, lying comfortable and still. Thoughts swirl in my head as I try to stall for time. I want an iron beam to fall over the door-I want one to fall on my leg, to trap me here because I don't want to go- I don't want to escape if it means it ends like this. Doesn't Father understand that I have to stay?

'Go?' I laugh, as if Father were asking the impossible. 'About-About that… I don't think I could make it, the lightening made my leg-'

'You just walked to get to me.'

I grin, and it strikes me as odd that I can smile in a time like this. Death is near and I'm hot but it's a comfortable hot, as if heated by a summer sun. I feel lethargic and relaxed- I find myself leaning closer to my Father.

'I'm tired, Father... Couldn't I just… lie here with you?'

'Luke, I would not—'

'You can't really change what I do,' I interrupt and when I sense his response, I cut him off again.

'Whether you like it or not, I'm going to stay. I know you don't, but this is my choice. You can protest if you want but is that how you want to spend your last moments-arguing with me?'

He struggles in my grasp and when he speaks, I sense his disapproval.

'Luke, I do not intend to pull you down with me. Your future is unwound—you have the potential to do great things. I don't want to… take that away. This isn't your burden.'

I sigh, softly distracted.

'I don't have anything if I decide to go back…' I run my fingers along his arm, hoping he might understand. 'I can't—I _won't_ leave you here to die alone- no one deserves that fate. War is over and that means the universe has no need for me, any more. So long as the Jedi exist, there will be trouble... All I'll do is fuel that.'

'I see,' Father comments. 'The galaxy outside of your head has reached order, but the one inside of it has not.'

I frown. 'Something like that. Can you, um, borrow my strength, or something? I need you to conserve it until the moment that we… go.'

'Yes, but Luke…'

'This is my decision,' I interrupt, resting my head against his shoulder. 'We'll leave this galaxy together—this is how the war will end.'

Father may protest, though I know he is grateful: all things fear death—whether they be Emperors, farmer-boys or Lords, the inevitable is always the same in the end.

Seconds pass and I feel sluggish. My heart feels heavy-like a stone in my chest-and I'm overcome by sudden exhaustion. My body is beginning to relax—I wonder if Father's is doing the same. I want to be close to him-closer than I already am, because the looming presence of death makes me unnerved.

'Father. I… I want...'

'Luke?'

'I want to be close to you when I leave. Is that okay?'

I watch Father breathing then lie down beside him-resting my head against his thigh-careful not to crush his chest. I love the sleepiness- that I'm awake, yet drifting away, that my surroundings have adapted a dream-like quality. Although Father is uncomfortable, I find that I can be content.

I curl up against him, squeezing his ribs like a pillow. I feel small and childish, but it doesn't matter because I crave his affection-I need to be comforted before I leave this galaxy. If I shut my eyes tight, I can forget for a moment that my life is soon to end and just enjoy this untouched happiness-I shut them as tightly as I can.

Moments shoot by as we lie together in the silence. Like a new-born child, I cling to my Father- weak in my own way- comfortable when he speaks:

'How are you feeling?'

'I'm a bit frightened,' I confess.

Silence. And then-

'I'm frightened, too.'

I imagine the metal ceiling sliding away to show me the stars, the skies and the heavens. I won't have to wait long—I'll be with them, soon.

The rebels have succeeded—I don't need to be told this, I just know... Which means my time has almost come.

I hear a crash, and my grip on Father's waist tightens. I don't want us to be separated but the explosion will tear us apart-tears pour down my cheeks as I bury my head in his shoulder, not wanting to see the moment that we're hit. Father grasps my hand, in preparation for what's to come.

Sparks ignite in my eyes as the ground beneath me shakes. Shards of metal are shot in all directions but I keep my head down, eyes shut throughout it all. Light bathes me and I'm warm-warmer than I've ever been- but at the same time I'm cold, as if drowning in a black ocean. The tips of my fingers and toes tingle, as if my senses are sounding all at ounce to grant me feeling one last time before I bid them all farewell.

I feel Father melting away beneath my hands and lift my fingers to see that they're scorched, alight. Pain races through my nerves and I don't know if I'm screaming—it's difficult to tell. I cling to my Father-my only comfort in this inferno-and as the second Death Star explodes I'm sailing through the air-becoming scattered throughout space, and sailing across the sky. I part the world's around me—I part the suns, the moons, the galaxy and the stars. I scream as I burn, alight with a fire more powerful than anything else I've ever known. I'm hot, I'm in pain... and then I'm somewhere else.

I'm on a grassy plain, gazing up at the night. The canopy of sky hangs turquoise and calm above me, stretching out before my eyes. I see a long, nebulous river reaching down into the grass and when I gaze into it's depths, I am consumed by my calamity. It's so blue and inviting that I want to swim there, but am instantly afraid of being carried by the tide. Then I remember that my life is over-that I was a passenger to the world of the living, that it's time for me to be taken away and that the tide is nothing to fear. I turn to see Father beside me and together, we step into the river.

Our souls are washed away by the ocean that is space; the tide carrying us from one universe to the next as we part prematurely from this life, to find a better horizon.


End file.
